Uhm, did you ever wonder how the boys got their tattooes they show in "Jus in Bello"? Okay... here is my version! It just kept roaring in my head and wanted to get out. Have fun! *lol*

He stared nervously at the big, flashing, gaudily colored shield of the tattoo studio and swallowed hard. He clenched his already sweaty fingers into tight fists and turned to his brother, brows knitted in genuine concern.

"Tell me again", he said, "why we have to do this!" His green eyes bored into his brother's hazel ones.

Sam answered absently as he roamed through his wallet for the money. "Because the amulets can be torn off your neck. It's more secure this way." He found was he was looking for and smirked at Dean. "Hey, bro, are you frightened?!"

Dean stopped him with a wave of his hand, putting on his bravado face. "Me? Oh, come on, bitch! That's just like a stroll in the park for me!" With two long strides he reached the door and pushed it open. "What are you waiting for?"

Sam still grinned as he followed his brother inside. He knew Dean for all his life, and he sure knew when that big brother of his was scared. But – of a tattoo?! Sam's grin widened. That sure would be an interesting afternoon.

His brother stood at the counter and flirted with the platin-blonde girl standing behind it. Her arms were graced with several fine, elegant tattooes, which Sam recognized as protective symbols chosen indiscriminately out of all the world's mythology. Obviously the right place Bobby recommended. Even more, he chuckled to himself, since the staff is to Dean's satisfaction.

"Yeah," his brother now brawled and threw a green-eyed flash at the girl, "We're here for a tattoo. My baby brother here's a bit nervous, so, could you please explain the procedure again?"

Jerk! Sam knitted his brows and had to give that point to Dean. Making sure he knew what would happen to him and let his younger brother look like an idiot. Dean was a master at that.

"Oh, of course!" The girl smiled warmly at Sam and patted his upper arm when she came around the corner and led them to the treatment room. The room was tiled at the floor and on the walls up to the ceiling, shining in the late afternoon sun with clean freshness. There was a treatment couch at one wall, and something that looked like a dentist's chair in the middle of the room. Next to the couch and the chair were machines with several tattoo pistols hanging in their holders.

Dean shot the pistols a wary look. The girl noticed. "Oh, don't worry, we always use sterilized needles, and of course they are changed after every customer." She smiled her sweet little smile again and continued: "First, we clean the area where the tattoo is going to be stitched. We shave it, then clean it with a mild sterilizer again. The artist is wearing gloves all the times to keep anything as clean as possible. We only use freshly prepared color, and never the same receptable on more than one customer. And the color is mixed with holy water to make the protection of the hunter sure." She sounded professional, used to the little speech she told. "And yes, it might hurt when the needle is stitching. The worst pain, if you want to call it that way, will occur while the artist stitches the surroundings. Filling in the rest ist just easy, then. The tattoo might be bleeding during the procedure – doesn't have to, but might – since the skin is penetrated, of course! The bleeding will stop shortly after, don't worry", she patted Sam's arm again and smiled.

Sam grinned at Dean who scowled back. The girl, unaware of the short exchange between the brothers, went on. "We will put some kind of foil onto the tattoo after the stitching, and after it has been creamed. And that is the most important part of it: you have to keep creaming the tattoo at least up to two weeks afterwards, until the skin is no longer irritated. It would prolong the life of the tattoo of course if you keep on creaming it regularly. And don't peel of the skin when it starts to crust. Never ever! So – any other question?"

The brothers shook their heads in unison. "Okay. We got both artists here today, so none of you has to wait." She gave them a big smile and motioned towards the couch and the chair.

Sam squinted at his older but smaller brother and saw the flash of panic in the green eyes. "Hey, dude, like a stroll in the park, remember?" He couldn't help from gleeflully grinning from ear to ear, enjoying his brother's obvious unease.

"I'm gonna kill you for that, bitch!" Dean put again his bravado face on and swung into the chair.

Sam laid down onto the couch, one arm behind his head. He watched his brother's grip tighten around the armrests when the artists entered the room.

The smaller, sturdier man came over to him and strechted out a hand. "Hi there, I'm Simon. Don't worry, I'll make it fast, and all you have to do is relax."

Sam watched curiously as the man prepared the pistol and then his chest, just above his heart. The blade of the shaver pressed cool against his skin, and then he felt the needle stitching into it almost impalpable. It was a little bit unpleasant, but Sam concentrated on the face of the artist, relieved that it did really not hurt, as the girl had said.

The humming of the pistol made him sleepy, and he closed his eyes – only to jerk them open when he heard the artist working on his brother laugh out loud. He gently pushed the hand of the artist aside and rose to his ellbows. "Everything okay there?"

The artist who had just begun to stitch the surroundings of Dean's tattoo had tears in his eyes from laughin so hard. "That- that never happened before!" He had to catch his breath and wiped at the tears in his eyes. "He just passed out! What a hero!"

And true: Dean was sitting in the chair, head dropped to his chest, hands limp on the armrests.

"What did you do?!" Sam tensed unconsciously, ready to jump off the couch and grab his brother.

"Nothin'!" The artist roared. "I've just begun to stitch and he stared at the needle when his eyes rolled back and his head came down. That's so peachy!"

"Oh." Sam relaxed and stared at Dean. A big grin spread over his soft cheeks. He will never ever believe me! "Wait a second!" He roamed his jeans' pocket and pulled out his cell phone. "Okay – and now say cheeeeeeeese!"

The artist laid one arm around Dean's neck and made the V, smirking into the camera of the phone. Sam pushed the button and closed the phone satisfied. "Thank you very much."

He laid back and let the artist finish his work, as did the other one on Dean. He was about putting the last stitches to Dean's tattoo when the hunter stirred and opened his eyes. They searched for Sam, and when they found him, he relaxed visibly. His face was gleaming with sweat, and his jaws clenched as he felt the pain from the stitching. He stared down his chest. Blood drippled from the stitches down to his nipple. "That hurts like a bitch!"

"Relax, man, relax!" Sam grinned and laid back again. "The faster you let the man do his job, the faster you're done."

"I never should have listened to you!" Dean just began to swear. "The amulet was just fine for me, you know? I've never lost that charm you gave me when we were kids, remember? So I'm wondering again why I am- OUTCH!"

The artist had continued his work, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "You are worse than a chick here, man!"

Sam laughed out loudly. "Yeah, and can you imagine this is the man who ran directly into the mouth of a wendigo, the man that killed demons and vampires? You're such a wuss, Dean! You take a shot without a word, but complain like a little girl about some stitches!"

"Funny, bitch, really funny! But you know why it hurts so much? Because I – I got muscle and all, and you only have fat! Yeah – the more flesh between your skin and bone, the less it hurts! Ha!"

"Jerk! At least I didn't faint!" Sam knew exactly when to bring that in.

Dean glowered at him. "I didn't-"

He never finished the sentence when Sam lifted his phone and showed Dean the picture he had shot only a few minutes ago.

"You're such a pain in the ass! And I swear, if that ever leaves this room here, I'm gonna tear your ass open!"

"Yeah, sure, bro." Sam grinned inwardly and pushed the "send" button.